A Fowl Wizard
by MasterofNarratives
Summary: In the year since the events surrounding the Bezerker's Gate, Artemis has had almost no magical contact. So what happens when he finds that his stolen fairy magic has kick-started his long-dormant human powers, revealing a whole new world of magic? And how does he react to meeting the eleven-year-old Boy Who Lived?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_I do not own Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. I do, however, own the plot of this story and any OCs I may introduce at a later date.

Before anyone points it out: yes, I _know _Gringotts was founded in the 18th century and Hugo de Folé was alive during the Norman conquest of England in the 11th, but please just roll with it. Continuity can get messed up in crossovers anyway, just assume that the timelines merged irregularly or something like that.

#~#~#~#

It came as a relief when Artemis dropped a knife on his foot.

Since the Bezerker's Gate incident, he had been unbelievably bored. Nothing exciting had happened for over a year. It had taken him less than a month to recover all his mental faculties – he was a genius, after all – and after that, he'd had nothing to do. The Lower Elements were surprisingly peaceful for once. Holly, as one of the LEP's best and brightest, was given so much to do that she barely had time to talk to him, let alone visit. The only contact Artemis had with the supernatural for twelve long months was his customary hacking duel with Foaly.

It had been early in the morning, and he had stumbled down to the kitchen, bleary-eyed, to find Butler cooking breakfast. As he lumbered to the table, he accidentally knocked into the chopping board and dislodged a knife. He saw it fall towards his foot. Butler was, thanks to his rather strenuous magical healing, too old to catch it in time, and Artemis' physical capability was certainly not up to scratch. He could only close his eyes and brace for the impact which never came.

Hearing Butler gasp, he opened his eyes slightly, then very quickly a lot wider as he saw the knife floating in midair, spinning gently. Examining it, he found that he could almost… _feel _it in the back of his mind. Concentrating, he made it move, floating up and down, left and right. It quickly drained his energy, but he brushed off the tiredness as he sprinted – actually sprinted - for his fairy communicator. Needless to say, he'd been on the first express flight to Haven.

#~#~#~#

Artemis Fowl was in trouble again. Currently, he was in the middle of a fairy lab with all manner of machines hooked up to him. Naturally, he knew what they were, having hacked the blueprints from Foaly's computer almost as soon as the centaur had come up with them. The demon warlock, No. 1, was examining him closely with a worried look. His eyes were glazed slightly with a magical sheen as his awareness delved into Artemis's mind, following the pathways of magic. After a few moments more, he surfaced, and sighed.

"It's just like you guessed, Artemis. The fairy magic you stole in the time tunnel kick-started your human magic."

Holly, sitting on the other side of her human friend, frowned. "But humans don't have magic."

Artemis gave his customary smug smile. "Not any more, but where do you think all those legends of wizards came from? Humans used to have magic, but somewhere along the way, we lost it. I assume it went with our connection to nature. However, the fairy magic reactivated the old pathways."

No. 1 grimaced. "And we have no idea what you can do now. There are no records of what human magic is capable of."

The genius smiled wider. "I guess I'll just have to find out."

#~#~#~#

Artemis sat in the middle of his room, meditating. He'd found that the exercise focused his mind wonderfully, and he had made vast leaps and bounds. At first, just lifting the knife had tired him, but now he could juggle ten or twenty small objects in complex patterns without breaking a sweat. His upper weight limit was significantly more than he could lift physically – he could bring the kitchen table or his bed clean off the ground, with some effort.

He had discovered other capabilities, too. He could communicate with animals, albeit in a very basic manner, passing images, simple concepts and emotions between them. Small wounds could be made to heal significantly faster – not a fairy level healing power, but enough to get rid of quite a nasty cut in a few hours instead of a few days. This, and other small things, gave Artemis a thrill he hadn't felt since he first discovered the existence of the People.

The process hadn't been easy. The first time he'd consciously tried magic in the house, he'd fried all the electronics near him. Fortunately, he hadn't been close to his computers. Experiments quickly revealed that electric currents were disrupted and short-circuited by magic. He worked out a way to incorporate magically conductive patterns into circuitboards, and upgraded all the manor's technology on the sly. It had been difficult, getting it done without his parents or brothers knowing, but he'd managed it.

Unfortunately, he wasn't free to experiment as he wished. The fairies, understandably, had put a guard on him, to be by his side at all times and report back on his magical status. His only consolation was that it was Holly, and the pair of them enjoyed being together again under more normal circumstances than their usual escapades. Comparing their magics helped Artemis greatly, as he often came up with ideas based off of fairy magic. More often than not, they didn't work – the two types seemed fundamentally different – but occasionally something worthwhile was produced.

#~#~#~#

It had been a few weeks since the arrival of Artemis's magic. The young man had recently perfected a new device – a magic scanner tuned to detect energies similar to his own. He hoped to pinpoint any others who had his gift. What happened next, he would never have expected.

Having launched the scanner on a satellite, with the People's blessing, he proceeded to link up to both it and Foaly, and initiated the scan. Hotspots showed up all over the world – there were large concentrations in nearly every major city, and smaller readings dotted everywhere, even on the most insignificant of islands. Commander Kelp was stunned. Foaly was stunned. Holly was stunned. Artemis was elated.

A whole new world to explore… this was going to be _fun._

#~#~#~#

Dublin had registered quite highly on the scanner, but Artemis had chosen London as his first destination for the simple reason that it had shown a stronger concentration but was still within easy reach. Once he, Holly (in human disguise) and Butler had disembarked from the private jet at Gatwick, they followed Artemis's handheld scanner. It took them three hours, but they finally found the spot they were looking for. Artemis saw a strangely out-of-place building, with a sign proclaiming it to be the 'Leaky Cauldron Inn'. Holly and Butler saw only the shops to either side of it.

"Curious. Even though elves are inherently magical, you can't see through the illusion like I can. Perhaps it's keyed to human magic only…"

Holly frowned. "I'm more than happy to take your word for it, Artemis, but how do we get in if we can't see the door?"

Butler nodded, a grim expression on his face. "I agree with Holly. I can't let you go in there alone."

Artemis sighed, grabbed his friends – Holly by the shoulder, Butler by the elbow – and dragged them forwards through the door. As soon as they were through, they blinked at what to them appeared to be a room that had appeared from nowhere just as they walked into a solid wall. Their stunned expressions caught the attention of the proprietor, who laughed heartily. "So, you a Muggle-born then? Who are these? Dad and little sister? I'm Tom, by the way, proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron, best wizarding inn in England and the entrance to Diagon Alley!"

All three of them stared at the man in incomprehension. Artemis spoke up: "What's a Muggle-born? I hope for your sake it isn't some sort of insult."

Butler cracked his knuckles, and the man's laugh only intensified. "Oh, you must be from America, then. I think they're called… Baseline and Baseline-born over there? Baseline population, the non-magicals. It's seen as more politically correct. We call 'em Muggles here, and Muggle-born for the witches and wizard whose parents were Muggles."

Not in favour of letting anyone know just how ignorant he really was, Artemis nodded. "Ah, yes. I didn't realize you used a different term here."

This time, his accent was flawless American. "Could you please direct us to this… Diagon Alley? I haven't been here before, so I don't know how to get to it."

The barman beckoned the trio to follow, and took them out into a small courtyard at the back. Pulling a stick from his pocket, he tapped a sequence of bricks on the wall, and they rumbled, suddenly retracting backwards and opening up an archway. Through the archway was a bustling street full of berobed people and shops with outlandish names. The barman beamed. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, England's premier wizarding hotspot!"

Nodding his thanks, Artemis quickly led his companions through the streets. Glancing around, he wondered where to go first… until a large, white marble building caught his eye. The sign outside read 'Gringotts Bank'.

#~#~#~#

Things had gone remarkably swiftly. They had been admitted without much fuss – whatever those strange sticks were that the guards waved over them evidently didn't detect "Muggle" weapons. When a goblin had come over – at least, they introduced themselves as goblins, though they were nothing like fairy goblins (Holly nearly screamed at the thought of goblins being in charge of a bank, but swiftly calmed down when she saw how much shrewder this particular brand was) - Artemis had enquired as to the nature of wizarding currency and the exchange of Muggle money. The goblin assured him it was possible, and asked him for the name to open an account in. When the boy genius had said "Fowl", there had been a visible flinch. "Er… excuse me. I… need to check something."

The goblin had scurried off, and returned a few minutes later with an older and much more senior-looking colleague. This new goblin looked up at the young human with a hint of nervousness, and asked if the name Fowl was in anyway related to Hugo de Folé. Artemis, surprised, replied that it was, and the goblin had swallowed, going pale, before turning to the junior and telling him "take them to Vault One."

A terrifying cart ride later, Artemis was even paler than usual, Butler was green, and Holly was grinning from ear to ear. She had quite enjoyed it, though the two humans much less so. Before them was a truly huge door, four times the height of Butler and twice as wide, ornately carved. The bowing and scraping goblin asked if Artemis would care to touch the door. He did so, and his handprint lingered on the silvery metal for a few long moments before dissipating. There was a creaking and grinding from within, and the door parted at the centre to swing outwards and reveal a huge room stacked high with gold, silver and bronze coins. Artemis's jaw dropped.

"This, sir, is the entire wizarding fortune of Lord Hugo de Folé, plus the interest collected on it over the centuries. As the Fowl heir, it is now yours."

Artemis quickly did the maths using the exchange-rate figure given to him earlier, and worked out that the equivalent of roughly three billion pounds was sitting in front of him. He swept a pile of gold coins – Galleons, apparently (stupid name) – into a bag, and went shopping.

#~#~#~#

Obviously, the wand had to come first. Artemis opened the door to Ollivander's, the wand shop (since 382 B.C.? Really?). The bell jingled, and an old man shuffled out from between stacks and stacks of wands. "Hmm… wand for the little girl?"

The young human shook his head. "No, for myself. I, ah… had something of a mishap."

That was untrue, of course, but he didn't want anyone knowing just how ignorant he was of the magical world and just how late he had entered it. The old man raised an eyebrow. "Curious."

Shuffling back into the shelves, he emerged with a box, and opened it to reveal a wand. "Maple and unicorn tail hair, fourteen inches. Give it a wave."

Artemis did, and a shelf collapsed. Ollivander snatched back the wand. "No."

Back into the shelves he went, returning a moment later with a new wand. "Yew and dragon heartstring, eleven and a half inches."

The windows exploded.

Things carried on in this vein for a while. Half the counter was set on fire. Ollivander's eyebrows vanished into thin air. Butler's gun went off in the holster, hammering the floor with bullets and scaring everyone. Twenty-two wands later, the shop was a bomb site and Artemis was still wandless. Ollivander scowled. "Well, you're a tough customer, aren't you… I wonder…"

He disappeared again, back into the shelf maze. This time, he didn't return for several minutes, and when he did, it was gingerly, carrying a black box with great reverence. "Try this. Ebony and basilisk fang, thirteen inches."

The wand inside was deep black with an intricately carved handle. Artemis picked it up gently, and felt a warmth travel up his arm. He looked around the shop, wincing at the damage he had caused, and waved the wand. To his surprise, everything repaired itself in a flash of light. Ollivander looked grim. "I see. Very well, mister Fowl, that will be twenty Galleons."

Artemis handed over the money, and it was only after he was out of the shop that it occurred to him that he'd never told the man his name.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_I do not own Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. I do, however, own the plot of this story and any OCs I may introduce at a later date.

To the anonymous reviewer: I apologise for the 'tell-instead-of-show', but I'm trying to skim over the backstory so that I can get into the meat. I'll slow right down and up the depth once I've got to the right place. It shouldn't take too long, just bear with it.

Terribly sorry about the long absence. Regular updates should now resume.

#~#~#~#

The rest of Artemis' shopping trip passed surprisingly quickly. He purchased practically a library's worth of books on magic and magical history. A visit to the robe shop yielded some expensive, silken robes – only the best for Artemis, of course – and a specialist potioneer's provided him with a large supply of ingredients.

There was only one thing that didn't go to plan. Artemis failed to find a familiar. None of the owls caught his eye. He'd never liked cats, and a toad or a rat was out of the question. He supposed he'd just have to address the problem at a later date. For now, it was best to study.

#~#~#~#

Several weeks passed, and Artemis had worked through his entire collection of books. He'd even made some improvements to some of the spells and potions once he'd got a handle on the techniques. The history books were informative, and he'd found that the reason for the Gringotts vault was that Lord Hugo de Folé had been a very powerful wizard and one of the very first to utilize Gringotts. He was actually quite an infamous name in wizarding history – he had been known as the Snakeye, which according to legend was because he had stared down a basilisk without dying or even so much as breaking a sweat. Artemis suspected that he had been a Parselmouth and had tamed the creature that way. It would certainly explain his own affinity for the sinuous reptiles. He made a note to test himself for Parseltongue abilities.

Having found that nearly all incantations were based on Latin, he had tested out some different languages and found some interesting effects. French made mind-affecting spells, especially love-related ones, more effective and was good for food, while German incantations were unparalleled for mechanical operations. Every language had its own magical characteristics, and Artemis was in the middle of debating whether or not to keep the knowledge to himself or publish a treatise when an owl arrived bearing a letter. It was addressed to _Artemis Fowl II, Artemis' Workshop, Fowl Manor, Fowl Estate, Dublin_

Frowning, he opened it and began to read.

_Dear Master Fowl,_

_It has come to our attention that you have recently awakened some magical abilities. We are most pleased that a member of the Fowl line has once again become a part of the wizarding world, and as such we are reinstating all of your ancestor's holdings to you. An enumerated list is below._

_We are somewhat confused as to why the Trace has not applied itself to you, and a representative will be arriving at your home shortly._

_Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic_

Attached to the letter was a long list of properties and titles, among which were a magical estate close to Fowl Manor and a seat on the Wizengamot. Idly fingering his wand in its holster, he kept his hand on it discreetly as he opened the door. "Yes?"

A robed man looked at him, rolled his eyes and pulled a wand. "Confund-"

With a flick of his fingers, Artemis slammed the man backwards, sending him to the floor and his wand flying. Smirking, the young genius commended himself on having the foresight to train his wandless magic. "I am Artemis Fowl the Second. I assume you are a representative of this 'Cornelius Fudge'?"

The wizard gaped. "Not possible. Your magic only just awakened, you should only be eleven! And how did you do that without a wand?!"

"And yet here I stand. Allow me to fill you in. I am not, nor was I ever, naturally a wizard. My latent abilities – no doubt passed down from Hugo – did not awaken at eleven, and would never have done so were I not recently exposed to a high concentration of magic which kickstarted my powers. As for the wandless magic, I began training myself as soon as the power surfaced. However, that is not your concern. I am most displeased with your conduct. Please vacate my property immediately, or I will remove you."

As Artemis slowly drew his wand, the wizard disappeared with a _crack._

#~#~#~#

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, sweating, as he stared at the letter he had received.

_Dear Minister Fudge,_

_I am extremely displeased. You sent one of your lackeys to my house without an appointment, who then proceeded to attempt a Confundus Charm on me. Your Trace is not on me because I am above the age at which it will apply itself, and even were it not, I would have already broken it. I am not a dog to be kept on a leash._

_You can be sure that the general populace will be hearing about this disgraceful conduct._

_Artemis Fowl II_

He considered the report from the Auror he had sent to the Fowl estate. The young man had thrown him halfway down the drive without a wand. Fudge shuddered to think what he could accomplish with one, especially since he had acquired the Fowl Wand.

This wand had a long and chequered history, though not quite on the level of the Elder Wand. It had been made by Hugo de Folé from the fang of the basilisk he had tamed and the wood of an ebony tree that had sat at the heart of a dark forest, whittled by a blade of bone and tempered in his own blood. The wand would allow nobody other than a Fowl to even touch it, and maybe only one Fowl in ten generations would ever have a chance of wielding it fully. Artemis was such a one, the wand having given him its allegiance as soon as he laid a hand on it. The combination of the two was a horrifying thought, even more so since Fudge had found tales of the boy's exploits in the muggle world. He would have to run damage control as soon as possible, and with that in mind, he got on the Floo to Albus Dumbledore.

#~#~#~#

For the next few days, all was quiet. Artemis spent his time at home, raising an extensive and deadly ward network with all the skill, power and viciousness passed down through his line. Some of the protections were well beyond the border of Dark, but that was what one got when dealing with the Fowls. As long as you get results, the method is irrelevant. When his home was protected to his satisfaction, he returned to Gringotts and collected his Family Ring, keying in Fowl Manor as the new main property. A full portfolio was provided, and while he was irritated that the goblins had said nothing to him of ancestral estates or hereditary artefacts, he couldn't fault their business sense. After all, while he didn't own them, it was free money for them.

When he considered it, he wasn't actually at all sure what he wanted to do yet. The pureblood society would doubtless look down on him for the long history of dormant magic, though they would put on a sweet façade for his wealth. He had never liked hobnobbing with the rich and powerful; they were all so narrow and petty, and the wizarding versions probably even more so. With that in mind, he turned to what he had heard of magical creatures. They were treated as little better than animals, and in some case worse. Scowling to himself, he resolved to do something about that at a later date.

In passing research, he had found something on Hogwarts, the British school of magic. Apparently it was one of the most impressively warded places in the world – something he would be interested to see – but more eye-catching was the supposed curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. For several decades, not one teacher had managed to stay past a year. He smiled his trademark vampire grin. That was a challenge he liked the look of.

Striding into the Daily Prophet offices, robes billowing behind him with the aid of a most amusing charm he had found (attributed to one 'Severus Snape'), he completely ignored the frantic cries of the secretary and went into the main office where he proceeded to hand them the story of a decade – the Fowl line once again magical, and the Minister immediately putting his foot in it. As reporters, they jumped on it like a dog on a bone, and Artemis had the foresight to throw them a few teasing lines about future plans, to keep them hooked and waiting.

#~#~#~#

Albus Dumbledore was having a bad day. Cornelius had called him, and at first he'd been ecstatic. The first magical Fowl in hundreds of years attending school in the same year as Harry Potter! Two living legends under his thumb, to manipulate and twist to his will. Then things had taken a marked turn to the worse. The Fowl was a grown man, already with command of his magic, and had summarily ejected an Auror from his property. When they had tried to make a second visit, three men died from some frankly brutal wards he had erected around the estate. Then, later, the evening Prophet had come in, and the headline had nearly given Albus a heart attack.

_Fowl Heir in Ministry Mess-Up_

_Rita Skeeter Reports_

_Early today, it was detected that the Fowl line – a notorious wizarding name from the past, long thought magically dead – had a living magical successor. A Ministry Auror was sent to escort the young Artemis Fowl back to his wizarding roots, but things took a turn for the worse. The Heir, as this reporter can attest, is a grown man with full command of his magic. He was gracious enough to visit us at the Prophet just a few minutes before the time of writing, and give us the following interview._

_RS: So, Mister Fowl, if you don't mind me asking, how did you awaken your magic so late?_

_AF: Were it not for certain… extraordinary circumstances, my magic would never have awoken at all. However, over the recent years, I have been exposed to large quantities of magical energy, and I believe that it acted something like a jumpstart for my own powers. You'll have to forgive the Muggle expression, there is no wizarding equivalent._

_RS: I see. Can you shed any light on these 'extraordinary circumstances' and their magical nature?_

_AF: I am afraid not. It would put certain people in an… unfortunate position, and I am not willing to do that to them._

_RS: Interesting. Alright, what about the Auror who showed up, and the three more who died to your newly erected Dark wards?_

_AF: The Auror made no appointment and no announcement of his arrival, and immediately tried to Confund me when I opened the door. I defended myself and, as is my right as Lord Fowl, ejected him from my property for his poor conduct. I didn't want such a thing happening again, so I put up some defences. This so-called 'Dark' magic is simply a more effective deterrent. It has no bearing on my personal inclinations; I use it merely because it makes for a better defence._

_RS: So am I right to assume you have no particular bias towards Dark or Light? A lot of wizards are firmly aligned one way or another._

_AF: As I have said, I care not for the nature of the magic I use, only if it is effective. Pragmatism is a trait I value and cultivate. There is as much Light magic in the wards as Dark, the Dark is simply noticed because you, as a culture, are biased against it._

_RS: A lot of wizards would disagree with you there._

_AF: I'm sure. However, history speaks for itself. Practitioners of 'Dark' magic are often shunned or outright hated. Some of them, I'll admit, are simply evil to begin with – this Voldemort individual I've been reading about, for example. However, magic is not an exclusive choice between Light and Dark, it is a single body. If you wish to select certain aspects of it, that is your loss. Salazar Slytherin was a great wizard, one of the Four Founders, and do you really think someone like Gryffindor would have worked with him if he was inherently evil? Practising 'Dark' magic is simply a different view, not a different creed entirely, though some may take their personal ideals of it to that level – again, Voldemort would be an example._

_RS: For someone new to our world, you seem remarkably well-informed._

_AF: Miss Skeeter, I am a genius. That is not a boast, it is a fact. I have done my research, and I know as much information about this world as anyone. I'll admit I lack experience, but that's something I can only gain through time._

_RS: So, what are you planning?_

_AF: As of yet, I'm not entirely sure, but the curse on the Hogwarts Defence position looks like a worthy challenge. We shall see, I suppose…_

_And with that, he left. This reporter is eager to see how the Minister responds to his grievous error. One can only hope that the gross breach of etiquette is forgiven, as someone of Lord Fowl's obvious power and intellect, not to mention wealth, would be a terrible loss to take before the game has even begun. Only one thing is for certain – the Wizarding World is in for some interesting times._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer:_I do not own Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. I do, however, own the plot of this story and any OCs I may introduce at a later date.

#~#~#~#

Since the interview, all manner of owl post had been coming for Artemis. No few of them were what amounted to fawning, essentially asking him for money, all of which he summarily burnt. Some were offers from pureblood houses of 'alliance', by which they meant 'give us your money and you can use our name'. These were also disregarded, along with a myriad of other annoying trifles.

However, one of the letters was eagerly received, and he opened it with haste.

_**Artemis Fowl II**_

_**OWL Results**_

_Ancient Runes – O (perfect score)_

_Arithmancy – O (perfect score)_

_Astronomy – O (perfect score)_

_Charms – O (perfect score)_

_Dark Arts – O (perfect score)_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts – O (perfect score)_

_Herbology – O (perfect score)_

_History of Magic – O (perfect score)_

_Potions – O (perfect score)_

_Technomancy – O (perfect score)_

_Transfiguration – O (perfect score)_

_**NEWT Results**_

_Ancient Runes – O (perfect score)_

_Arithmancy – O (perfect score)_

_Charms – O (perfect score)_

_Dark Arts – O (perfect score)_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts – O (perfect score)_

_Potions – O (perfect score)_

_Technomancy – O (perfect score)_

_Transfiguration – O (perfect score)_

_Wandless Magic – O (perfect score)_

_**Mastery Results**_

_Cursebreaking Mastery – granted first class with distinction (perfect score)_

_Potions Mastery – granted first class with distinction (perfect score)_

_Rune Mastery – granted first class with distinction (perfect score)_

_Spellcrafting Mastery – granted first class with distinction (perfect score)_

_Warding Mastery – granted first class with distinction (perfect score)_

Smirking at the column of perfect results, Artemis took a moment to bask in his own intelligence. That should shut up the purebloods who thought they were better than him just for having been raised in the wizarding world. It had been a pain to get the foreign courses – Salem Academy had actually been generous with their Technomancy and Wandless Magic courses, but Durmstrang had taken a lot of pushing to allow him to sit a Dark Arts exam. It was more than worth it, however.

Now, to see about that teaching position…

#~#~#~#

Albus Dumbledore realized he had been incredibly stupid to think that it could not get any worse. The older-than-expected Fowl Heir… no, Lord Fowl… Cornelius' blunder and the interview in the newspaper were enough to be dealing with, but now Fowl wanted the DADA job. The old man sighed. With those qualifications, he could hardly turn him down, though with any luck, the curse would kill him off and there'd be one less variable to deal with.

#~#~#~#

_Mr. Quirrell_

_Thank you for your application, but I am afraid that I have already found a suitable candidate for the DADA position. However, I still lack a Muggle Studies professor, so perhaps you could see your way to filling your old position? Please let me know by owl._

_Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_Grand Sorcerer_

_Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

Voldemort seethed.

#~**September 1st**~#

Artemis rolled his eyes at the sign reading 'Platform 9 ¾'. Really, it was ridiculous. As for the train… they hadn't even bothered to power it magically! It still ran on _steam_! Shaking his head, he resigned himself to ten months in a backwards culture, cut off from all but what he could bring with him.

Admittedly, bottomless bags made that quite a large amount, especially since his new satellite could send signals through magical barriers. That would allow him access to the Internet (and the fairy Undernet) for the duration of his stay at… oh yes, Hogwarts. Yet another ridiculous name. Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Quidditch… would they ever stop?

Surreptitiously checking behind him to ensure that the lost-looking boy with the white owl had made it (he had), he boarded the train in a flutter of Acromantula-silk robes, and noted the prefect's compartment at the front, taking the one immediately behind it. Raising an eyebrow at the sparse furnishings, he pulled out his wand and started to make changes. First, the door window became frosted-glass instead of transparent, just as he saw the same boy looking at him through it, and a silver plaque appeared below it, reading _'Professor Fowl, Defence Against the Dark Arts'. _The door and wooden panelling became dark mahogany and the seats vanished, replaced by leather-upholstered armchairs that turned the compartment into something more akin to a lounge. The largest chair, the only one in black leather instead of brown, was set in a corner by the window, looking over the rest of the area. A drinks cabinet was removed from one of his bags and stuck to the floor next to it. A thought struck, and he turned back to the door, quickly setting a password (Aurum Potestas Est, obviously), before changing the carpet to a deep green and making it much thicker and softer. The window was altered to be one-way, and of substantially better quality.

As a final touch, he added shock-absorption charms that would turn the bumpy train ride into something smoother than Artemis' sweet-talking – and that was no mean feat.

Settling back into his chair and pouring himself a finger of fine brandy, he contemplated what he had gotten himself into. A couple of months ago, he'd been cut off from all supernatural contact for over a year, and yet now here he was in the middle of a secret wizarding society that had been right under his nose the whole time.

He really had a knack for stumbling across magic.

#~#~#~#

Harry Potter was nervous. His uncle had dumped him at King's Cross, between platforms 9 and 10, before immediately leaving, and he might not have made it onto the platform if he hadn't seen the tall, black-haired man look at him pointedly and then stride right into a pillar and disappear. Following hurriedly, he found himself on an entirely new platform, looking at a bright red train that hooted cheerfully. His jaw dropped as he took in the robes, the animals and the chattering families.

After a few moments, he shook himself out of his stunned daze and hurried onto the train. He saw the man he'd followed through a compartment window just before it suddenly frosted over, and then a plaque appeared under it – Professor Fowl. So that was his name. The door changed to dark mahogany, making Harry jump at the suddenness. Walking along the train, he found an empty compartment and sat down in it, wondering if he'd have Professor Fowl this year. He seemed nice, if having helped him onto the platform was anything to go by.

Five minutes passed, and there was a knock at the compartment door. A red-headed, freckled boy poked his head in. "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

He indicated the seat opposite Harry. A shake of the head prompted the boy to sit down. He swallowed, and then, before he could lose his courage, blurted out "Are you really Harry Potter? Only, I thought it might by one of Fred and George's jokes…"

Wordlessly, Harry pulled back his fringe to reveal the lightning bolt scar.

"Whoa… so that's where You-Know-Who…?"

"Yeah, but I can't remember much. A lot of green light, but that's about it."

"Wow…"

Ron stared some more, then seemed to realize what he was doing and looked away, reddening. It didn't look good with his hair. Harry nearly laughed, but managed to refrain, and hurriedly changed the subject. "So, are all your family wizards?"

The conversation went on fairly well after that, although the two both shot a funny look at a bushy-haired girl who appeared to be towing a nervous, pudgy black-haired boy around after her, passing their compartment several times.

#~#~#~#

Hermione Granger was getting frustrated. Where on Earth was that toad? And why did everyone laugh when she asked about it? And how many places could a toad hide on a train, anyway? And why couldn't Neville just keep up? And –

Her train of thought derailed as she stared at the silver plaque. There was a teacher on board? Well, that solved everything! She knocked smartly on the door. Muffled sounds of movement came from inside, and then she was confronted by a tall, pale man with black hair, one raised eyebrow and the coldest, most piercing blue eyes she had ever seen. She quailed under his gaze. "Um… Neville lost his toad… and I was wondering… if you could help… us… find it…?"

Her voice trailed off into a squeak at the end as she shrank back into her robes. Sighing, Artemis turned to the boy. "Its name?"

"Trevor."

Artemis pulled out his wand and flicked it sharply backwards towards him. After a few seconds, a toad shot through the air towards them, croaking plaintively. Disdaining to catch such a creature, he stopped it in midair, levitating it just above the tip of his wand, and offered it to the boy. "Try learning the Summoning Charm. Then you'll be able to do that whenever you need to find him."

Hermione frowned, shyness forgotten in the face of academia. "But that's a fourth-year spell! How are we supposed to learn-"

"Wrong. There is no such thing as a 'fourth-year spell'. Everyone is ready to cast different spells at different rates; the system is simply designed to progress at an average, if challenging, rate so that everyone can keep up. Both of you are already powerful enough to cast the charm; the only reason it is taught in fourth year is the difficulty in technique. You have to visualize it coming to you with complete focus, at least at first. If you are truly dedicated to learning it – and you should be, if you care for your familiar – then you won't have too much trouble. The incantation is _Accio, _and you saw the wand movement. I will expect you to know it for your Friday Defence lesson. That should give you more than enough time."

"But sir-"

The door closed. Scowling, Hermione resolved to show Professor Fowl exactly what she could do. She would learn that charm if it killed her!

#~#~#~#

Artemis smiled in amusement as he stood motionless on the other side of the door, hearing the girl's whispered promise to herself that she'd learn the spell. He'd judged her right – a great passion for learning and new challenges.

Returning his wand to its invisible wrist holster (custom built, undetectable, unsummonable, removable only by the wearer and an emergency portkey function), he wondered what to do next. He'd already finalised his lesson plans, and all the books had been finished weeks ago. He couldn't practise Legilimency alone, and his mindscape was already practically inviolable. That left a train patrol in his capacity as a professor.

It would give him a chance to observe his new students, at least.

Opening the door with a wave of his hand – as always, he cast wandlessly when alone – he strode out into the corridor, compartment closing itself behind him, and headed slowly down the train, looking into each compartment as he went. Everything seemed to be going well. Near the end of the train, in one of the seventh-year compartment, he saw a girl whose hair seemed to be constantly changing colour and her face was shifting. He stopped dead, watching with a raised eyebrow. After a few seconds, he was noticed, and the girl opened the door. "What?"

"Simply admiring the rare talent you have. It is not often a Metamorphmagus is born. I've read of them, of course, but I doubted I would actually meet one."

She snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Talent, sure. Everyone just wants me to go on dates with them looking like someone else… bastards. Who the hell are you, anyway? I don't remember seeing you around Hogwarts before. What year are you in?"

Artemis' eyebrow lifted even higher. "Professor Fowl, Defence Against the Dark Arts."

The girl's hair, as well as her cheeks, instantly went red. Laughter emanated from the compartment as she stammered out apologies, but Artemis waved her off with a smirk. "Don't worry about it. Frankly, I'm flattered you think I look young enough to be a student."

If possible, she went redder, and the laughter intensified. Artemis started walking back down the train. What he wasn't telling her, of course, was that technically he actually was that young, given the time-travel debacle. Thank goodness for aging potions…

#~#~#~#

Harry and Ron had started a conversation about Quidditch – the redhead being stunned that the Boy-Who-Lived had never heard of the world's greatest sport – when they had some unwanted guests, by the names of Crabble, Goyle and Malfoy. When Draco introduced himself, Ron couldn't hide a snigger. Malfoy sneered at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford, since they're so poor. Not surprising really, given that you blood-traitors have no ambition or influence."

Ron went red in indignation, and was about to retort, when a shadow fell over Malfoy from behind.

#~#~#~#

As Artemis was returning to his compartment, he found the way blocked by three boys, and was just in time to hear a string of insults come flying from the blonde's mouth. Narrowing his eyes, he swept up behind them and the boy turned, looked up and suppressed a squeak. As a pureblood, he had kept up to date with the latest news, and knew exactly who this was. "Ah… Lord Fowl… what a surprise to see you here! My father-"

"Is not here and has no relevance to this conversation. And it's Professor Fowl. Now, the school year hasn't officially started yet, so I can't dock house points for what you just said, but I'm warning you now that if I hear something like that again, you'll be spending an evening in detention. Now, that might not be enough of a deterrent, but my personal policy is that every time someone earns a detention, a letter is sent to their parents detailing exactly why. I'm sure your father would be _so _pleased to hear about you blindly spewing insults instead of thinking before you speak. Now get back to your compartment; I'm sure you have more important things to do than make enemies before we even arrive."

Stepping back, he allowed the slightly stunned boy and his lackeys to hurry past, and then, with a nod to the two boys inside, followed his own advice and returned to his comfy leather seat.

The rest of the journey passed in a flurry of complex cogitation as he considered the implications of the lighting-bolt scar he had seen.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:_I do not own Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. I do, however, own the plot of this story and any OCs I may introduce at a later date.

#~#~#~#

Upon reaching the station, Artemis exited his compartment, calmly secured it with a number of heavy-duty wards (he wanted his compartment kept in good condition for the next time he was on the train, and certainly wouldn't be having anyone else in it without invitation), and stepped out. All the returning students were making their way purposefully towards a fleet of carriages pulled by what appeared to be Thestrals (so seeing Holly die on Hybras _did _count, even if he undid it, he mused), while a few first-years were uncertainly starting to follow them. Then a loud voice echoed across the platform.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All righ' there, Harry?"

A huge, hairy man beamed at the boy with the scarred forehead. Artemis, lacking anything better to do, followed at the back of the group, taking in the castle with a raised eyebrow. When the huge man mentioned boats, however, he stepped in. "Perhaps it would be well to give the new students a demonstration of what can be accomplished if they work hard in their studies? I find people work better when sufficiently motivated."

The beard and hair swivelled in his direction, eyes looking out from somewhere vaguely in the middle. "Er, who migh' you be?"

"Professor Fowl, Defence Against the Dark Arts. May I?"

"Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys, but jus' call me Hagrid. Go ahead."

With a thin smile, Artemis drew his wand and the tip seemed to blur for a moment as he made a fast, complex and precise movement within the space of maybe a square centimetre or two. The air temperature seemed to drop, and ice began to crystallize on the bank of the lake. It grew up and across, resolving in short order into a magnificent suspension bridge, lit by floating balls of light. Carved into the central support pillar was the crest of Hogwarts, while the four corner pillars, two on each bank, bore the crest of one Founder each, and glowed in their respective colours.

Jaws dropped all around at this feat of magic, and Artemis, taking advantage of their stunned daze, led the way onto the bridge. The walkway underfoot was crosshatched for grip, and the magic inherent in the structure provided additional sticking force, ensuring that not one student slipped. As they passed onto the far bank, huge translucent projections of a snake, a lion, a badger and an eagle (that always annoyed Artemis, the house was _Raven_claw, for goodness' sake) shimmered into existence and let out a deafening cry to welcome the new students. Jaws dropped further, but Artemis allowed them no further time to gawk, striding towards the cave entrance over ice that formed under his descending feet.

A staircase led up and out onto the front lawn, right before the great oak door, providing a perfect view of the towering structure. Artemis snorted to himself. _Designed to awe and cow, no doubt._

Hagrid knocked tentatively, glancing at the young Professor as he did so, and the door swung open to reveal a stern-looking witch with greying hair. Artemis instantly knew that this was not someone to be crossed. Hagrid coughed nervously. "Er, the firs'-years, Professor McGonagall… and Professor Fowl too."

McGonagall turned a flinty gaze on Artemis. "And why was Professor Fowl not at the staff meeting we held earlier today?"

"I was informed of no such meeting, ma'am. I'm sure I can catch up. Oh, I should dissolve the bridge before I go in…"

A flick of his wand heralded a distant sound of crashing water. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Bridge?"

"Yes. I thought it might be a good idea to show the new students what can be accomplished if they study hard, so I raised an ice bridge out of the lakewater instead of the usual boats. It was an interesting exercise. If you'll excuse me, I should get to the staff table."

The clamour of the students distracted her long enough for him to slip by.

"It was so cool-"

"- an entire bridge out of ice-"

"-all these floating lights-"

"-the crests on the pillars-"

"-you mean _glowing _pillars-"

"-and the house animals at the end! That was awesome!"

#~#~#~#

The Great Hall was filled with chattering second through seventh years (most of the noise came from the Gryffindor table, he noticed), but they quieted down when Artemis entered. He paid them little mind, though smirked slightly when the Metamorphmagus tried to hide behind her friend at the Hufflepuff table.

There was a seat free beside the Headmaster, which he assumed was for McGonagall, so that left a place next to… ah yes, Snape. The used-to-be youngest Potions Master in history until Artemis beat his title. From the glare he was getting, the man knew it, and he allowed himself a small smile in the direction of the greasy-haired brewer before turning his attention to the rest of the Hall. The first-years came in soon after, and a tattered old hat was produced. This, then, must be the Sorting Hat. He wondered idly what House he would have been put in, and quickly came to the conclusion that it would inevitably have been Slytherin. Still it would have been nice to know…

The Sorting was over remarkably quickly, with Harry Potter going into Gryffindor, as Dumbledore seemed to have expected, judging by the satisfied expression on his face. The year seemed very small for a group that was supposed to make up a seventh of the students present. He supposed that it was the product of the Voldemort war, since there was actually quite a lot of space at all the tables, and the children here would have been conceived during that conflict. Such a thing would make prospective parents think twice, but this group was smaller than even that should suggest. However, there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he put it aside just in time to hear the Headmaster start talking about him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lord Fowl! Now, as we know, he never actually attended Hogwarts, or indeed any school of magic, so I thought it would be nice to offer him the chance to partake in an honourary Sorting. What say you, Professor?"

Artemis smiled and nodded gracefully, but inside he was fuming. How dare the man try to undermine him before he'd even started teaching?! At least it was still early enough to turn the game around. If he'd discovered his magic much earlier, the man could have done irreparable damage before he had the chance to correct it. Standing, he picked up the Sorting Hat. "Thank you, Headmaster, and while it is true I did not receive a formal education, I am rather glad of the fact, as any conventional school would have been far too slow. The first years can attest to my ability. If any of you wish to ask them how they got to the castle this year, I suspect you would find the story somewhat different to your own experience."

That last was directed at the students. Dumbledore was now the one to hold an expression of forced politeness, not visible as a mask to anyone without a forensic level of perception. Naturally, Artemis saw right through it, but without further ado placed the Hat onto his head.

_My my! What's this?! A whole other magical world… well, I never thought I'd see the day. Don't worry, Lord Fowl, your secret is safe with me. Now, I think we both know where you belong, don't we?_

"**Slytherin!"**

The table on the far right of the hall nodded and clapped politely. Snape glared. Dumbledore looked slightly troubled, and caught Artemis' eye. As soon as he did so, there was a tickling around the mental shields the young genius had erected, and he narrowed his eyes slightly at Dumbledore before gripping the probe and twisting it forcefully. The Headmaster convulsed, blood suddenly gushing from his nose, and slumped back in his seat. The teachers and students both went white in shock, and Madam Pomfrey, the Nurse, rushed over immediately. "Albus! Albus, what's wrong?"

All the staff clustered around a pale and swaying Dumbledore as he was helped to the hospital wing, with the exception of Snape and Artemis, who remained at the Head Table. Artemis continued eating calmly, his example leading most of the students to settle back down, but Snape kept an even more poisonous glare than before on him for the whole meal, touching not a single bite of his food.

#~#~#~#

Harry Potter woke up the next morning feeling confused. The events of last evening had all been a bit of a rush. That _amazing _ice bridge over the lake (the bushy-haired girl hadn't shut up about power requirements and arithmantic matrices and all sorts of jargon for several hours afterwards), then the hat putting him in his parents' old house, and then the new Professor getting Sorted into Slytherin. That put Harry off him somewhat, after hearing about the House of Snakes from Ron, but he decided that, since the man had helped him on Platform 9 ¾, he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

His first lesson of the day was History of Magic. Well, that was good – he needed to know more about the world he was now a part of. He might have hated History at his old school, but surely it couldn't be anywhere nearly as bad as that?

#~#~#~#

Artemis was in a good mood. He had his first class second period, so his morning was extended by an hour. He sat down to breakfast, ordering a healthy meal, when a flock of owls descended on him, delivering no less than thirteen envelopes, each one with the crest of a different House. Opening the first one, he nearly spat out his drink when he read the words _'Marriage Contract' _at the top of a legal document. Hurriedly scanning the letter, he found that his sorting into Slytherin had rendered him 'acceptable' as a potential husband to the daughter of a great many pureblood Houses. Though he was technically Muggleborn, they had got around that by reasoning that he was directly descended from the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Fowl, and since he was very rich in his own right, without the ancestral vaults, he was nobility anyway. Shaking his head at their blatant money-grabbing attempts, he once again almost spat out his drink when he read the names. Some of these girls were in his _classes_!

Carefully folding the letters and returning them to their envelopes with a distinct air of distaste, he wrote a polite letter indicating that, while he was flattered, he would prefer to find his partner on his own and form a relationship based off exactly that – a genuine relationship – rather than a desire to form an alliance. Duplicating the letter and putting a copy in each envelope, he sent the owls straight back where they came from and resolved to never, _never _mention it to those of his students whose names had been on the letters.

#~#~#~#

Mia Slughorn was watching Professor Fowl intently. A Slytherin seventh-year, her father, Horace Slughorn, was one of the pureblood patriarchs who had offered a marriage contract to the man. His reaction showed that he hadn't been expecting it, but she had to admit that she was impressed with how well he handled it, given that he'd only been part of the wizarding world for a couple of months. Now that she'd got a good look at him, she felt slightly disappointed that he'd turned the contract down – he was very good-looking. No matter; the contents of the letter he'd written (gleaned through a sneaky monitoring charm) stated that he would start a relationship based on personal feelings, so she'd have to play it that way. If she could get married to him, then the House of Slughorn would gain a powerful ally.

She did, perhaps, feel slightly guilty about the love potion she'd slipped into his food down in the kitchens, but then she was the child of a renowned Potions Master, and she didn't really feel like waiting for him. Besides, he'd never said they'd be _real _feelings. Now all she had to do was wait for the potion to take effect. She had Defence first period, and she had timed the effect to start just at the end of the class. He should ask her to stay behind, and then… things would start to go her way.

#~#~#~#

From the first bite of food, Artemis had known it had been dosed. Wandlessly summoning a powerful antidote from the bag he kept with him at all times, he neatly palmed it and tipped the vial into his goblet without anyone noticing it. He paused before taking a sip, scanning the hall and noting that he felt a gentle pang of longing when his eyes fell on a particular seventh-year Slytherin. She smiled prettily at him, and he remembered that she had a class with him first. Ingenious, but not enough to catch him out. By the feel of it, she'd timed the potion to take full effect by the end of the lesson so that she didn't have to deal with anyone else around. Smiling to himself at the deviousness of the students, he took a long pull from his goblet. Love potion neutralised, he returned to his meal.

#~#~#~#

Artemis' first Defence lesson, a seventh-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class, went very well. The students all seemed to enjoy the lesson, and he'd successfully managed enough surreptitious glances to convince the girl that her potion was still in effect. When everyone began to leave, he made his move. "Miss Slughorn, a word please."

She paused, looking at him coyly over her shoulder, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. As the last of the other students filed out, he shut and locked the door with a flick of his wand.

#~#~#~#

Mia could barely keep her calm demeanour. This was it, her chance! Imagine how the headlines would scream… _Slytherin Seventh-Year Snaps Up Fowl Heir!_. She'd be rich, powerful, and her husband would follow her every whim thanks to the joys of potion-induced love. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and watched with growing anticipation as he shut and locked the door.

Then things went horribly wrong.

A third flick of his wand had her suddenly immobilized, and his cold gaze was terrifying. "Dear me, Miss Slughorn, you didn't really think that the _Defence _teacher would fall for a simple love potion, do you? I happen to hold a Potions Mastery – the record for youngest ever, actually – with a perfect score, and I know love potion when I taste it. Given that I always carry an antidote, it was simple enough to identify you from the diminished effect – a downside to timed potions, that – and then neutralize it. The question is… what do I do with you? I suppose I should let you tell me your side first."

Another flick released her head and she began to gabble. "My father wanted a marriage contract, and you turned it down, and I need your money and power. I wanted to be recognized, well-known, famous even, and you were my way to do it. I was going to have everything I wanted, and-"

She found herself silent again, and then her eyes widened as she realised how much she'd revealed. She'd never meant to say that, so how…?

Artemis smirked. "The Truth Charm is a handy little spell, you know. Normally only works on Muggles, Squibs or very weak wizards, but with enough power you can use it on anyone, and with enough subtlety they won't even know it's there. Now, let me make this clear. I am nobody's pawn. I know your father is a Potions Master, so I don't doubt he put you up to this, but that said, you have lost a hundred points for your house, you will serve a month's detention with me, and, with the Headmaster's approval, you'll be on probation for the rest of the year."

"Granted, my boy."

Mia whipped her head round, wincing as her neck protested, to find none other than Albus Dumbledore calmly sitting at the teacher's desk. He smiled at her. "I have always been a dab hand as Disillusionment Charms, my dear, and I must profess I was intrigued when Professor Fowl sent me an urgent message to come invisibly to his classroom by the end of the lesson. I now see why. Step carefully, my dear – you are on thin ice."

Despite the grandfatherly manner, there was steel in those blue eyes, and when the paralysis left her limbs, she scurried out as fast as she could.

#~#~#~#

"Bloody hell mate, that was a nightmare of a day!"

Harry nodded in agreement with Ron. They'd had Double History of Magic, so boring they'd gone back to sleep, Malfoy had returned with a vengeance at break ('No teachers around to save your scarred hide now, Potter!'), then they'd had double Herbology which they were both rubbish at, and finally a Potions lesson, the worst of all. Snape seemed to have it out for Harry, asking him impossible questions and turning a blind eye to the sabotage of his potions. His teaching was abominable – he simply put the instructions on the board and told everyone to get on with it, then went around insulting people for not doing perfectly. By the end of the lesson, Harry was ready to curse him, if he knew any curses.

At least they had Defence Against the Dark Arts the next day. Ron had heard good things about it from his brothers, Fred and George. Apparently it was the best DADA lesson they'd had in their entire time at Hogwarts.

#~#~#~#

As Quirrell sank back into his sofa, Voldemort was ranting.

_Muggle Studies! Why in the name of Magic would we want to study those filth?! We need only know that they are fit for nothing more than servitude! And your incompetence, Quirrell, has cost me the Defence position. I cannot get easy access to Potter now, and I need it! We must alter our plans. Here is what to do…_


End file.
